


the adjustment period

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: leaps of faith [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F, femslash calendiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: Deeply in love with an ensouled vampire? Unthinkable.





	the adjustment period

It happened quietly, and as such, Gil didn’t recognize it in the moment. All she noticed was that in her arms, on the sofa, both of them cuddled comfortably under a fuzzy blanket bought for them by Buffy, Jenny stiffened as though she’d been poked, then looked up at Gil with a strange expression.

“All right, darling?” Gil asked absently, kissing the tip of Jenny’s ear.

Jenny just looked at Gil, almost hungry. Then she said, “You love me, Roberta, don’t you?’

“Yes, of course, my love,” said Gil simply. Jenny was vulnerable, on occasion, and she was still adjusting to the uncomfortable newness of being a vampire. If she needed to hear that she was loved, then Gil was more than happy to oblige. “I love you endlessly. Completely.”

Jenny’s smile quivered, that same look in her eyes—tentatively greedy, though Gil would never label her love as such. “Say it again,” she said.

“I love you,” Gil murmured, and gently shifted Jenny in her arms, kissing her softly and slowly. Jenny kissed her back, an odd, clumsy kiss, one that Gil took to mean that her love was hurting for a reason she couldn’t yet explain. That was all right. Gil was nothing if not comforting. “I love you,” she whispered, pulling back, kissing Jenny’s neck. Jenny gasped, almost a sob. “I love you so much.”

She could feel Jenny shaking in her arms, as though she’d never once expected to hear Gil say these words. It was strange, but then their relationship had always been a tentative dance when it came to emotional intimacy, and so Gil didn’t think all too much of it. “I love you,” said Jenny, then took Gil’s hand, guiding it lower.

They’d already established that sex wasn’t the kind of total and complete happiness that Jenny needed to lose her soul (Angel’s moment of happiness had come from connection and love and _Buffy,_ not the sex itself), but Gil still felt wary of sex in this moment. “Are you sure—” she began, her hand stopping to rest on Jenny’s thigh.

“ _Yes,_ ” said Jenny, the word trailing into an impatient moan as she tugged insistently on Gil’s hand. “Just— _yes._ ”

Gil never had been very good at saying no to Jenny.

* * *

 

Jenny vamped out in bed, fifteen minutes later, when they’d stumbled up the stairs and she was pressing Gil into the pillows. It was the first time she’d done it, and Gil—well. Gil hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the few times she’d seen Jenny’s vamp face, she’d thought less _terrifying_ and more _darling._ The vampire had existed for such a short amount of time that even things that belonged to it felt more like _Jenny_ than some nebulous creature Gil didn’t know. And so when Jenny vamped out in bed, Gil simply tugged Jenny’s face down to hers and kissed her, rough and insistent and passionate. She wanted it to be clear that this was a choice she encouraged, one she was all right with. She wanted Jenny to know how loved she was.

Jenny bit into Gil’s shoulder, still in game face, but it was a careful bite and one that didn’t break the skin. It left a half-moon shaped bruise, though, one that she touched uncertainly in the afterglow and said, half-terrified, “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, no, i-it’s—”

“Roberta,” said Jenny.

“Jenny,” said Gil, and tugged Jenny closer. “I promise I’d tell you if I was bothered. Don’t fret.”

A small, secret part of her liked the bite. She liked touching it, feeling the dull ache under layers of tweed and vest and button-down, knowing that this was something the children didn’t know about and the Council wouldn’t condone. She liked the way it felt when Jenny caught her fingering the area they both knew was still bruised. It was unusual for Jenny to mark her so overtly, but Gil wasn’t used to marks being something out of love, not pain—or violence. Or youthful stupidity.

(She still had the Mark of Eyghon tattooed to her inner arm—a reminder.)

* * *

 

“Gil,” said Buffy, frowning, “is your shoulder okay?”

“What?” said Gil, and because she was so taken aback by the question, she accidentally blurted, “No, just—Jenny—” and then she went furiously pink and attempted to hide her face behind a nearby book.

“Oh,” said Buffy, then, “ _Oh,_ ” then, horrified, “ _Ew!”_

“Nice,” said Jenny, her mouth twitching.

“Don’t you start!” said Buffy, burying her face in her hands. “First I walk in on you two _hardcore_ making out in Gil’s office, then I stop by for a post-patrol check-in and I hear Jenny moaning _through the walls—”_

Willow started giggling. “In my defense,” said Jenny, “the window was open.”

“Not helping,” said Gil in a strangled tone of voice.

“ _Honestly,_ ” said Buffy. “I have had _enough_ of teachers making out. You two are _old!_ Can’t you just—I don’t know, do crosswords together or something?”

“No,” said Jenny, and smiled innocently. Gil crossed the library to kiss her.

“Oh, I think it’s sweet,” said Willow happily. “They’re out! They’re proud! They’re sponsoring the school’s GSA! Well, Gil is, Jenny’s dead.”

“Hey, I got my affairs in order,” said Jenny, draping an arm almost possessively around Gil’s neck. “Everyone knows about my _miraculous recovery._ I mean, Tucker Wells’s weird brother tried to stake me, but other than that—”

“ _No,_ ” said Gil, scandalized, and kissed Jenny on the cheek. “I shall have _words_ with that boy.”

“Hmm,” said Jenny. “What if I want you having words with me?”

“God,” said Buffy. “I should’ve known. You two were arguing one day and then buddy-buddy the next, and I guess I was just grateful for the lack of what I _now_ realize was some intense sexual tension.” She made a face. “Ew.”

Willow giggled. “Speaking of sexual tension,” she said. “Are you and Angel—?”

Gil stiffened. Jenny ran a calming hand down her shoulder.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Buffy carefully. “We’re talking. I don’t think I can—I mean, not in good conscience.” She seemed to realize that this wasn’t really an answer, then sighed. “I can’t stop thinking, you know?” she said. “The only reason Ms. Calendar’s alive is because she was smart enough to figure out a way to get her soul back. She could have for-real died and I’d have had to stake someone wearing her face.”

Gil felt Jenny flinch.

“But—” Buffy looked anxiously up at Jenny. “You know I don’t blame you,” she said. “And you know I’m grateful you’re as close to okay as you can possibly be. It’s just that a lot of the mess you went through was ‘cause of me—”

“It wasn’t,” said Jenny stiffly. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah,” said Buffy heavily. “But that’s a little harder to wrap my head around. So I think I’m going to be staying Angel-free until you guys are _sure_ you can anchor the curse.”

“That’s a very grown-up and difficult decision to make, Buffy,” said Gil, careful and gentle. “I’m proud of you.”

Buffy shrugged, then smiled a little. “It’s worth it,” she said. “To know you guys get to be happy.”

Jenny turned her face into the crook of Gil’s neck, kissing right above the lingering bruise. It was tender, but it felt strangely like some kind of reminder.

* * *

 

Gil liked that the children knew about Jenny, now. She liked that instead of breezing into the library and assuming he wasn’t walking into anything romantic, Xander would make a joke about interrupting date night in the same way he had once teased Buffy and Angel. She liked that Willow talked sweetly and excitedly to Jenny about the pretty girl in her physics class. She liked that Buffy would furtively slip her romantic things to give Jenny “because god knows you need the help.” Which Gil _didn’t,_ but—god, after nearly a year of furtive kisses and listening to staff members talk about how _sweet_ their friendship was, it was bloody intoxicating to be treated, really and properly, like a couple.

She told this to Jenny, both of them lying in bed one night. Jenny didn’t sleep, didn’t need to, but she said she liked lying near Roberta (“this way, I can protect you properly,”) and Gil _loved_ having Jenny this close all the time. “I love you so much,” she said, her voice soft and trembling. “I love being with you. I love that the children fuss over us kissing and tease us about being in love. I just—I feel so _lucky,_ Jenny, to have this with you.”

Lips parted, eyes misty, Jenny stared at her. Then she said, “You have no idea how much I love you, Roberta. It’s like—it burns me up from the inside. I don’t even know if I’m—if I’m built to _feel_ this way about someone, but—you make me stupid and crazy and I love it and, and I love you—”

They were clumsy in their endearments, overly romantic, and it was because they had been so tentative and secretive before her death. It felt, now, as though they were both spilling over with all the love they’d held back. Gil had never known she could be this happy.

* * *

 

Gil made a run to the butcher’s every Saturday morning. It felt sweetly domestic to kiss a lounging, lazy Jenny good morning, quickly shower, change into a weekend suit, pull her hair into a messy bun, and drive down to the butcher’s to pick up enough pig’s blood to last them the week. The butcher knew her quite well by now, and they sometimes made idle small talk about the weather and about the men Gil was seeing. She had a lot of fun making up ridiculous-sounding men for this purpose, slipping bits and pieces of Jenny into the fiction. _He’s a bit stubborn, but I like him. He sometimes seems surprised when I tell him he’s kind. He’s the most loyal fellow I know._

 _You must go through a lot of men, then,_ the butcher always laughed, and Gil would laugh too, because—god, her life was a ridiculous mess, one she never would have pictured when she’d entered Sunnydale. Deeply in love with an ensouled vampire? Unthinkable.

She came home to find Jenny lounging on the couch, wearing a set of Gil’s boxers and an oversized tank top that read _Hack It!_ “Ro _bert_ a,” she whined. “Come _kiss_ me.”

“Bloody needy, aren’t you,” said Gil, grinning. “Just let me put these in the fridge.”

“What if I need you _now?_ ”

“We have the whole weekend—”

“—and then you go back to your stupid _job_ and you’re not here to fuck me on the couch,” Jenny persisted.

Gil was startled into a nervous coughing fit and nearly dropped the bags of blood. “Jenny, _really,_ ” she managed. “Is that all you think about?”

“Being a vampire has done wonders for my libido,” said Jenny. “And at the very least you promised you’d paint my nails. I love it when you do that.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Gil opened the refrigerator door, carefully placing all but one of the blood bags inside. “Snacks first. I shan’t be dealing with you when you’re hungry.”

Reluctantly, Jenny pulled herself up and off the couch. Jenny had created a few magical wards that allowed the sunlight to enter the room without it harming her, so she walked casually, not bothering to dodge rays of light that hit her face. She leaned across the counter, smiling at Gil. “Roberta Gillian,” she said, “I love you bunches.”

Gil felt so much younger than she had any right to feel. “Darling,” she said, and kissed Jenny, then pulled back to open the blood bag, pouring it into Jenny’s favorite mug. “I’ll just heat this up and then—”

“And  _then,_ ” said Jenny significantly.

“Good lord,” said Gil, and kissed Jenny again, careful not to spill the mug. “You’ve been _remarkably_ insistent on regular intimacy, this last week—it’s getting to be rather much.”

“Too much?” Jenny asked uncertainly.

“Certainly not,” said Gil, affronted by the very concept. “I love you. It’s simply that it’s a bit of a change from your previous hesitancy.”

To her surprise, Jenny looked somewhat uncomfortable. “Well,” she said. “Things change. And I _am_ feeling better—” Hastily, she took a long sip from the blood mug, giving Gil a smile that seemed rather forced. “Let me just finish this,” she said.

Something was tugging at Gil’s Watcher-sense, right then, and she wasn’t sure exactly what it was.

* * *

 

Jenny drew blood, that night, and then _immediately_ pulled back, game face vanishing as she pulled a truly startled Gil up and into her arms. “Oh my god, Roberta, I’m so sorry,” she babbled, pressing her hand to what was really a very small cut on Roberta’s neck, “I just, I just forget that you’re human, you know? That you’re all breakable and soft and—”

“Human?” Gil echoed, frowning.

Jenny exhaled, a shaky, panicked sound. “I just,” she said helplessly, “I just love you so much, I want to be _so_ close—”

But Gil was thinking back, now, to that quiet, singular moment where Jenny had stiffened in her arms on the sofa. She was thinking back further, to a time when she’d been locked in her own car, hands tied behind her back with a scrap of Jenny Calendar’s funeral dress. “Jenny,” she said quietly. “Something’s changed, hasn’t it?”

And Jenny, Gil knew, if it really was Jenny, would ask deflecting, nervous questions, because Jenny had practiced enough to be talented at hiding whatever it was that was bothering her. But the vampire looked up at her with this tired, resigned expression, and said, “Yeah. Yeah. It has.”

* * *

 

“I’m not—going to kill you,” said the vampire.

“I had figured that,” said Gil.

They were sitting across from each other, the vampire at a barstool, Gil on the other side of the counter. Gil was looking at the vampire and feeling…much less frightened than she should be, honestly. Any respectable Watcher would be terrified and furious and all sorts of burning, angry emotions, but Gil just kept on thinking about how the vampire had said _I don’t know if I’m built to feel this way about someone._ “You didn’t lie to me all that much,” she said, and was surprised to hear the gentleness of her tone.

“I lied to you more than I should have,” said the vampire quietly.

“That’s quite true,” said Gil. “You should have told me straightaway when you lost your soul.” _Ridiculous,_ she heard her father’s voice saying, _talking to this thing as though it has a conscience._ But Gil knew that the vampire loved her—knew it in the same way she knew Jenny loved her—and so she couldn’t possibly be afraid.

The vampire swallowed. “She was so happy,” she said. “Being with you. Being in your arms. She was thinking about how she would get to be with you forever, and how she’d be strong enough to keep you safe. It wasn’t like Angel, if that helps—it didn’t hurt when she left me.”

Gil nodded quietly. “What was your plan?” she asked. “In the long run? You had to have had one, or you’d have just—killed me.”

The vampire flinched at that. “Roberta,” she said. “You know I can’t kill you.”

“No, I know,” said Gil. “But—”

“I wanted to know what it was like,” said the vampire, her voice small. “To—to have you look at me. The way you looked at her.”

This was the very last answer that Gil had expected, and what she found herself saying shocked her even more. “Jenny,” she said softly. “That’s who you are, isn’t it? Soul or no soul, you’re still my Jenny, you’re just—a bit mixed up about what to do with all your love.”

The vampire gave her a wobbly smile, raising a hand to her face. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “I love you so, so much. I think vampires are supposed to want to go out and kill things, but—that’s not the kind of vampire I am. I need someone to love.”

“And I’m just that someone?” said Gil sardonically.

“No,” said the vampire. “No, you’re…I don’t know _what_ you are, but I love you enough that—that I don’t want to kill you. Or anyone. I just want to be with you and, and be the kind of woman you’d love.” She swallowed. “I’m just not sure if I’m built for it,” she said quietly.

Gil considered this. Then she leaned across the counter and kissed the vampire, very softly, very gently. “You’re trying,” she said, “and that means the world to me.”

“Yeah,” said the vampire.

“But you know I can’t let you stay.”

“I just—wish—” The vampire raised a trembling hand to Gil’s face. “It’s like it’s burning me up inside,” she said in a small voice. “That’s not how love is supposed to feel, I don’t think. She—loves you differently. Better. I, I know that you and her, you’re the ones who get to be together at the end of all this, but—god, Roberta, I wish it was you and me.”

“I know,” said Gil.

“Do you think,” said the vampire, “do you think you’d have loved me if you met me first?”

“You’re my Jenny,” said Gil simply. “I’ll always love you.” It didn’t quite answer the question, but she knew that it was what the vampire needed to hear.

The vampire kissed her again. “I love you,” she whispered. “I wish I could love you like she loves you.”

“I know,” said Gil softly. She wanted to say “me too,” but it wasn’t truthful; much as she did love this clumsily loving version of Jenny, she wouldn’t trade _her_ Jenny for anything.

The vampire sniffled. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I-I don’t think I’ll be able to do this kind of thing again. I think—next time I see you, Roberta, if there _is_ a next time, I think I’ll be stupid and selfish and never let you go.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” said Gil quietly.

“I know,” said the vampire. “I’m trying to pretend.” She laughed a little bitterly. “God,” she said. “I wish I wasn’t so fucking _loyal_ to you, but—that’s what Jenny was, at her core, right? She was a knowledge seeker, sure, but it was always for someone else. And she was just so, so stupidly in love with you.” She raised her head, smiling helplessly at Gil. “I could never tie you to me,” she said. “Not if I knew you’d be happier with her.”

Gil hesitated. Then she said, “Jenny—come here.”

* * *

 

They had sex in Gil’s bed. It was tentative, a bit awkward, and the Watcher in Gil was bloody terrified that this was all a ruse, but every single one of her instincts said _this woman loves me_ and she knew in her bones that the vampire would never, never hurt her. Not really. The vampire had tried to kill herself rather than live in a world where she thought she wasn’t loved. The vampire had been angry and spurned and lost, but—

Seven months, Gil had gotten with Jenny. Seven months of really, truly being in love, without secrets or subterfuge. The vampire remembered that love, and remembered Jenny’s happiness, and believed Gil’s stumbling romantic overtures, and so the vampire would never, never hurt her.

“I love you,” the vampire whispered into Gil’s shoulder, after. “I love you so much, Roberta.”

“I love you too, Jenny,” Gil whispered back, because she did. She loved her. And it would make her job more complicated, and it would change the way she looked at vampires, and she was absolutely certain it would make her a bloody terrible Watcher, but she loved the vampire—she loved _Jenny—_ ever so fucking much.

The vampire rolled over onto her side. “I know how to anchor the curse,” she said finally. “I’ve been—researching it. I kinda figured you’d figure me out at some point, and it felt—I thought that this would be a way to—show you—” She sniffled, smiled. “I’m just not gonna see you again,” she said. “Which I think I’m okay with, because I know you and her are going to be so happy.”

“You’re quite selfless,” said Gil, and kissed the vampire’s temple. “Were I in your place, I don’t think I would be.”

“Oh, you _definitely_ wouldn’t,” said the vampire, which made Gil laugh. “Now come on. I have an Orb of Thesulah stashed somewhere, and I want to get this over with before the kids show up. This’ll make a _very_ awkward conversation otherwise.”

* * *

 

The vampire sat down in the middle of the sofa, eyes closed, then opened one eye to peek. Gil laughed, and she smiled too. “You’re taking too long,” she said, “that’s all, and my ability to be selfless is waning when you look that sexy. Did Jenny ever tell you how much it turned her on when you were getting all Watcher about something?”

“No, but I did guess,” said Gil. “Startlingly, you are _not_ that subtle. And there is a _process_ to this, my love, kindly let me _proceed_ —”

“Ugh,” said the vampire, and closed her eyes again, still smiling.

Gil read the incantation all the way through, careful, waiting right up until the very last word. Then she paused, crossed the room, and dropped a last kiss to the vampire’s mouth, whispering the last of the ritual as she did so. She wanted this to be the last thing the vampire remembered, the last thing the vampire had of her—not pain and fire and anger, like last time, but love. The vampire was just as extraordinary a woman as Jenny.

Gil pulled back, and the vampire opened her eyes. They didn’t flash, bright and almost violent, as they had last time—they glowed a soft gold, as though something was being restored. Not forced.

“Oh,” said Jenny, and she sounded a little overwhelmed. “Well. This is new.”

“What is it?” Gil asked, dropping to her knees in front of Jenny.

“Um,” said Jenny. She was smiling a little. “It’s not—there’s no division.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Between me and her,” said Jenny. “It’s—just— _me._ ” She laughed, sounding surprised. “It was—okay,” she said, “let me just try and explain. You gave me my soul back last time and it felt like she was still in there, you know? Forced down, but still _there._ But now it’s—she’s just a part of me. And Roberta, she loves you _so much._ ” She laughed again. She sounded close to tears. “I feel like _me,_ ” she said. “I don’t feel—like I was lost, these last few weeks, I just feel like things were a little _different_ but still _good_ because I was with _you._ ”

“Oh, Jenny,” said Gil, almost a sob, and took her hands.

“I feel like I used to when I was alive,” said Jenny. She was crying, now, but her smile was almost blinding in its brilliance. “Roberta—Ro _berta_ , we’re gonna get to be _happy._ ”

Gil pulled Jenny all the way into her arms and kissed her. “I know,” she whispered. “God, do I know.”

* * *

 

Jenny, her Jenny, still wasn’t quite comfortable with her vamp face, still wasn’t all right with biting Gil in bed, still stumbled a bit when trying to express how very much she loved Gil. Jenny, this new Jenny, could also be lighter, louder, playful in an almost dangerous way, and it reminded Gil of something she’d said long ago: _I’m not the same person who got put in the ground._

But that was all right, because—people did change, over time. Gil wasn’t the woman who would have shuddered at the thought of sleeping with a soulless vampire, or picking up pig’s blood from the butcher’s, or falling in love, ever so deeply, with another woman.

Love was about changing together.


End file.
